


Rubba Dub Dub, Sam Winchester's In The Tub

by kimstheworst



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Bathing/Washing, Bathroom Sex, Dick Jokes, Doggy Style, Dominance, F/M, Fellatio, Major Character Injury, Minor Injuries, Mostly Fluff, drug mention, medical advice, suddenly domineering sam winchester
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-01
Updated: 2017-01-01
Packaged: 2018-09-13 20:44:38
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,400
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9141517
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kimstheworst/pseuds/kimstheworst
Summary: Sam's shoulder is injured and, though he doesn't want to admit it, he needs your help to take a bath. ;)





	

**Author's Note:**

> Takes place between Seasons 9 and 10 so Dean has disappeared and none of the characters know he is a demon, yet.

The Men of Letters Bunker was quiet save for the light tapping of your fingers scattering across a keyboard.  You sat in your favorite armchair in a corner of the library, doing what had become your usual routine - scanning police reports, looking for a case. Looking for demonic signs. But really, looking for any sign of Dean.  The heavy metal door to the bunker slammed, sending shockwaves through the previously tomb-like silence.  You jumped about three feet up in the air.

“______________!” you heard Sam calling your name.  He sounded like he was in pain.  

You quickly rose from your nest and rushed to the map room in time to see Castiel helping Sam down the stairs, Sam cradling his right arm, wincing in obvious pain.  

“Cas, I’m fine.  It’s not my legs that are messed up.” Sam said.

“I’m just trying to help, Sam.” Cas replied.

“I know you are.” Sam said his tone easing.

 

“What the hell happened?  Are you okay?” you asked, panic rising.

“We had a run-in with a demon.” Cas explained “Called himself Osric.”

“Okay, well. It’s a day that ends in Y so demon’s kind of a given.” you replied.

“He threw me.  Dislocated my shoulder.  Need you to help pop it back in.” Sam groaned.

“Jesus, you’ve been walking around with it out the whole time?” you asked.

“Cas tried popping it back in.” Sam explained.

“It ummm...it didn’t work.” Cas apologized, ashamed of his newfound impotence. 

“Ok, well…sit.” you guided him over to the map table and set him on the edge.   

“Cas, could you grab the Whiskey from the library and...ummm...there’s a big old bottle of percocet in my room.” you instructed.

“Percocet?” Sam half laughed  “Damn you’ve been holding out.”

“They’re from when I had my wisdom teeth out.  Don’t get any ideas.”

Cas returned with the items.

“Okay, drink this.” you said unscrewing the cap and handing Sam the bottle of whiskey.  

He didn’t have to be told twice, taking a big old swig to try and numb the pain.  

 

You reached for his belt buckle and quickly flipped it open.

“Whoa! what are you doing?” he jumped back slightly.

“You need something to bite down on and I don’t want your teeth marks on mine.” You said whipping his belt from his pants with a quick jerk. 

“Okay, lie down on the table.” you gestured to the map table.

“What? Just push it back in.” he told you.

“Why, is that what you did before?” you looked from Sam to Cas who looked guilty.

“That’s the way we’ve always done it.” Sam tried to recover.

“That’s not how you’re supposed to treat a dislocation, dummy.  No wonder it fell back out. Now, Lie down.”

You helped Sam swing his feet up onto the table and lie down.  He wiggled, a bit uncomfortable.

“Okay, so I’m going to move your arm perpendicular to your body and slowly pull it.  It is going to hurt like a mother fucker and it might take a couple tries, so bite  down on your belt. Hard.”

“ ‘kay.” he nodded, placing the belt in his mouth.

“Cas, hold him down so he doesn’t, like, slide when I pull.”

Castiel awkwardly palmed Sam’s chest, not quite sure where to grab him.  Sam shot him a “what the hell?” look.

“Just link your arm with his left and hold down his other shoulder, okay?” you offered.

“Oh yeah.  That’s a better idea.” Cas did as you told.

You slowly pulled Sam’s arm away from his body at a steady rate, until you felt a “pop” reverberating down his arm and heard him grunt loudly in pain through the belt between his teeth.

“Okay, so from what I understand. It’s going to still hurt a lot and not really be usable for a while, so we should probably get you a sling or something, just to take the weight off it.”

“Thank you.” Sam said.

“Any time, pard’ner” you doffed your imaginary cap toward Sam.

 

Sam was adorably useless without the aid of his right arm.  Man was not born to be ambidextrous that was for certain.

He had trouble getting dressed.  Several times you had found him trapped inside his own shirt, the fabric stretched across his head, rendering him blind.  

He couldn’t reach for anything higher than his shoulder or lower than his waist, which became particularly frustrating to the younger winchester whenever he’d accidentally drop half the card catalog on the floor. 

And he definitely could not tie his shoes. 

 

But even with all his new found difficulties, the man would just not ask for help.  With anything... 

There was the time he tried to lift a bag of weapons and carry a pizza at the same time.  By the time he got down to the bunker library, well, time may be a flat circle, but that pizza was definitely not. 

There was the time he had to forge a local police chief’s signature, refusing your assistance, and it came out looking less like “Paul Reynolds” and more like “Garflickishpuk”. 

And there was the time he had one of the old MOL cars up on risers - the ‘57 T-Bird, Dean had told you once, trying to fix something (you seemed to recall him saying something about a rock flying up into the chassis and getting lodged somewhere) and if it hadn’t been for your quick reflexes pulling him out, he would’ve been a pancake when the snot green behemoth fell from the insecure jack. 

 

A few days after the near-crushing you were passing by the bathroom when you heard Sam struggling with something. You knocked on the door.

“Sam, you okay in there?”

Silence, then through the door you heard him releasing a breath of exasperation.

“Not so much. Listen, I can’t believe I’m asking you for this, but could you come in her and help me out for a second?” he asked, resigned.

 

Opening the door, you said  “I swear to god Sam, if you are on the toilet I am running away and never coming back here.”

 

You spied Sam over by the showers, his button down shirt half pulled up his body.

 

“I’m trying to take a shower, but..” he blushed looking away all sad and defeated “I’m stuck in my clothes.”

“Oh, so you need me to get you out of your pants?” you said in a breathy phone sex voice with an over the top wink.

 

Sam shot you his best bitch face. 

“Geez, I’m kidding. But just out of curiosity, Sam, you can’t even get out of your shirt, how do you expect to even wash yourself with that clumsy ass left hand?” you asked.

“I’ve been managing.”

“Trust me. You really haven’t.” you countered, crossing to the big steel therapy tub on the far side of the bathroom.  The pipes groaned and rattled to life as you turned the spigot handles.

“What are you doing?” he asked.

“I’m helping you. Get in the tub.” 

“What? You're gonna bathe me now?”

“Yeah, you stink. I’m gonna bathe you.”  you said emphasizing the ridiculousness of the word “bathe”.

“I'm not an invalid.” he argued.

“Would it help if I dressed up as a hot nurse?” you joked.

”..could you?” Sam asked, on the off chance you might actually do it.

“No. Get in the fucking tub.”

**“** Ugh. Fine.” He conceded letting you peel his shirt up off over his head as you stared on slack-jawed on account of the fact he seemed to be cut from marble. 

“Do you mind?” He said catching you ogling.

“Sorry.” you said, averting your gaze. 

 

You heard Sam drop into the tub with a slight “whoa” quickly followed by a SPLASH. 

“You okay?” you asked.

“Yeah, I’m fine.” he said unconvincingly “You can turn around now.” 

 

You turned to see Sam sitting up in the deep metal tub, his right arm propped up on the edge, his left below water level.

 

“Soap’s on the” Sam started to say as you found it “yeah on the shelf.”

“I do live here, too you know? I know where you keep your shit.”

“Yeah, well.” he conceded.

 

Try as you might, your gaze traveled down Sam’s body to his left hand covering himself.

“Dude, are you touching yourself? This ain’t that kind of establishment.” you half joked

“I’m not...I’m covering myself, ok?”

“Sam, believe or not, I’ve seen a few dicks in my time.  You’re not gonna scare me.” you mocked.

Sam shot you a look.

“Oh, fine. Here.”  you grabbed a washcloth from the towel rack.  “Cover your shame!”

“I don’t think this is big enough” Sam worried.

“Oh, get over yourself, giganto- okay yeah.  I can see the..uh...baseofyourdick.” you said awkwardly.

Sam’s hand darted back under the water. “I told you.” he huffed. 

 

“Sam. It’s fine. I promise not to look.”

“Fine.  Just stop making this weird.”

“Oof. Well, unfortunately that is in my coding.” you laughed a little as he shot you a bitchface “Let’s just get you cleaned up, okay?”

“Yeah.” he agreed.

 

You grabbed an empty pitcher off a shelf and asked Sam to lean forward in the tub so you could wash his hair.  You quickly wet his hair and worked the shampoo into his scalp.  Sam couldn’t help, but exhale in pleasure, stifling an almost moan as your fingers massaged his into scalp.  You finished working the shampoo into his hair.  

 

“Tilt your head back.” you asked him, before rinsing his hair.

Affecting the voice of an old lady you said “Oh, Sammy.  When I was your age, the talkies cost a nickel.  Paul Anka was my favorite. What’s a Netflix?”

“Oh god. Please stop with the voice.” he said.

“How’s your schmeckle?  Does it need to be scrubbed?”

“Nope. Nope. Nope. We're done” Sam protested.

 

“Oh, come on, man.” you argued.

“Nope. Out.”

“I’ll be good.” you whined.

 

“I’m really vulnerable here, and I need you to stop fucking with me.” he told you.

“Ok, yes. I’ll stop ok. Just let me help.”

He conceded with a nod of his head.

 

You soaped up a washcloth and began running your hand down his back, arms and chest, tracing his muscles, scrubbing him clean. The man had not an ounce of fat on him.  It was like rubbing your hands down marble. You’d hugged attractive people before.  And there was always that slight layer of give over a firm core of muscle.  But not Sam.  He was like an ice sculpture. 

 

You went to wash down his chest again.

“You...ummm…you already did that part.” Sam said softly his eyes meeting yours.

“Yeah, sorry.” you replied, blushing a little. You laughed a little, nervous.

 

His eyes bounced from yours to your lips and back.   You leaned in and kissed him gently.  He smiled into the kiss.

 

And then he pulled into the tub, clothes and all.

 

You splashed around like a drowning cat.

 

“Jesus Fucking Christ,Sam. Shitting fucking balls.” you squealed.

 

He could barely keep his shit together, laughing hysterically, as you thrashed unceremoniously trying to find your way out of the tub. 

You arched your body halfway out of the tub only to come crashing back down onto Sam’s legs.

“Ow!” he yelled.

“That’s what you get!”  you said splashing him more.

 

“Stop! Stop!” he said, laughing shielding himself.  He grabbed your wrist to still you.  A heated moment.  Then you jumped his bones, grabbing his face as he reclined in the bath, kissing him deeply,straddling his lap, not giving a damn you were absolutely soaked. He wound his one usable hand into your hair deepening the kiss even further an animalistic passion rising in him.

 

You ground your hips down into his and he responded with a slight grunt.  He slipped his right hand up the back of your shirt and unhooked your bra. Tearing your lips away from his for a moment, your hands resting on the sides of his face your foreheads touching you said “Oh, so there is something you can still do with one hand.”

 

“Oh, you have no idea what I can still do with my one hand.” he said with a mischievous laugh and smile. 

“Here’s hoping you’ll give me a clue.”

His eyes locked on yours, he bit his slightly in consideration. “That counter.” he pointed with his chin.  “Now.”

 

Somehow you tore yourself from Sam’s frame and made it out of the tub, of course taking half the water with you.  You made a mental note that you would probably have to come back with the mop later.  Oh, wait.  Cancel that. There’s a drain in the floor. Probably not for occasions such as this, but convenient nonetheless. The back of your thighs hit the counter. What were we doing? Oh, right. About to fuck Sam Winchester.

 

“You still with me?” Sam asked.

“100%” you replied.

“Where’d you go?” he asked.

“Nowhere. A heavenly plan featuring your ass?” you offered with an exaggerated smile grabbing onto his ass and pulling him between your open legs.

 

He laughed a little at that, running his tongue over his teeth. He used his one good arm to help hoist you onto the counter.

 

You wound your hands into wet hair as he unbuckled your soaking wet pants and attempted to pull them off.  

 

“This is a lot..”  he struggled, tugging at your pants “more difficult than I thought it would be.”

“Wet denim.  Wet skinny jeans, even. Hold on.” You wiggled off the counter and peeled the pants off your body.   “There.” you said hopping back up on the counter.

 

You pulled Sam’s face towards yours with one hand  your lips meeting in slow purposeful kisses, while you slipped the other down his chest and stomach, his muscles tightening in response all the way down.  Your hand landed on his penis, already half hard. You began to stroke him.

 

“Mmm...I thought I was supposed to be showing _you_ what I could do with my hand.” Sam whispered breathlessly, his forehead against yours.

“Well, get to it. I’m a very busy important lady and I don’t have all day to just...ah” you stopped as he slid his thumb across your clit.

“What was that?” he asked. The little shit.

“MMyep.” you said through clenched lips. 

 

He rubbed your clit through soaked underwear as you hooked your arms around his neck and rested your foreheads together. You had your eyes shut, but there was  no way Sam was missing a second of watching you unravel at his touch. 

 

He grabbed one edge of your panties and pulled them down your legs, before throwing the wet rolled ball of them across the room to god knows where. 

 

He slipped a finger through your folds and you gasped as he slipped an experimental finger in your vagina.

 

“Ok?” he asked you.

“Definitely.” you replied, opening your eyes to meet his. 

You pulled him into a deep kiss as he moved his finger in and out of you and slipped another in, his thumb returning to your clit rubbing in incessant circles.  Opening you up enough, he slipped a third finger in and started making a come here motion hitting your g-spot.     So, naturally you began to come there. You felt your orgasm begin to build and crest within you. 

“Oh, Sam.” you allowed yourself to moan as pornographic as you could, your orgasm rising like a wave and crashing within you. You collapsed against his chest as he removed his hand from you. He moved his hand to the counter beside you, bracing himself against your weight as you caught your breath. Or, at least you thought he was bracing himself.  You heard the rustling of some packaging behind you.

 

“Lil help?” he said holding up a condom.

“It’s weird that you keep condoms in here.” you said taking the foil packet from him.

“You keep tampons in here.” he argued.

“That is not for the same thing.” you said your hands attempting to get a grip on the slippery packaging.

“Don’t complain. They’re coming in handy right now.” 

“Very good point.” you said finally freeing the prophylactic from its kryptonite prison. 

 

You kissed Sam with all the fire you could summon as you slipped off the counter.

 

“What are you..” he asked going speechless as you left a trail of open mouth kisses down his chest leading to his member.

 

You licked around the base of his penis and swirled your tongue up to his head, taking a deep breath as you took what you could of him in your mouth. You bobbed slowly at first, then picked up speed, taking him as deep as you could. Which, honestly, because he was Sam fucking Winchester still left a lot of territory unclaimed. But you managed, you worked the base of his penis with your hands (Thanks, Cosmo!).  He laid a gentle hand against the side of your head pulling you away. 

 

You looked up at him, your hands resting against his thighs. 

Catching his breath he managed “I think we’re ready for the condom.”

You grabbed the condom, half out of its wrapper, from the side of the sink and rolled it down onto Sam as he grunted at the tightness. 

 

“Good?” you asked.

“Good.” he nodded cupping your cheek and pulling you to your feet with his good arm.  He slid his hand down your face and neck tracing the curves of your body before arriving at the edge of shirt.  You helped him peel the sopping wet garment off your body.

 

Now there was nothing separating your body from his, save for air.  You pulled him toward you intent on making him yours, but he had the exact plan for you.  He tore away from your heated kisses and gripped your right hip tight flipping you around, so you were facing the mirrors.

 

He kissed the back of your and massaged your left breast before commanding  “Look in the mirror."  He slipped his hand slowly down your stomach, never breaking eye contact with you.   His hand slid down down between your thighs and made itself at home there, working you up again.  

 

You could see how much his right hand wanted to get in on the action.  A few times he went to reach out, but thought better of it. 

He started to push you over the edge.

 

“Sam…” you said breathlessly.

 

He removed his hand from you then and gripped your throat loosely, then said  “Not yet.”

He laid a possessive hand down your back and slid it up to the back of your neck, bending you over the counter as he lined himself up and thrust into you.

 

You let out a little gasp at the intrusion. 

 

“You okay?” he asked.

“Keep moving.” you said.

 

He obliged, moving in and out slowly at first.  Your breasts were pressed against the cold counter, your arm bracing the side of your face from lying flat on the ceramic.   

 

Sam’s hand moved from your clit, to your breast to the counter as he sped up.  You felt every inch of him moving inside of you. 

 

You reached a hand down to massage yourself as he adjusted his angle and started hitting your g-spot.

 

“Right there. Keep going.”  you told him, your orgasm beginning to mount in you.

“You close?” he asked.

“I’m close.” you agreed.

“Me too. Let me know when you…”

“Ready.” you interrupted.

“Go.” he said.

 

You let yourself go, tensing around length, letting every neuron in your body fire at once.  

 

“Fuuuuckkkkk…” you heard Sam say at the same time you felt his hips stutter and his penis twitch inside you.  Looking up in the mirror you saw his face clench in ecstasy, before relaxing.  He half-collapsed, stumbling away and out of you.  He removed the condom, flinging it into the trash, before hitting the counter with his back and sliding to the floor to sit.  You rolled over, off the counter where you were still bent over, and slid down to sit next to him. 

 

You laid your head on his shoulder and he put his arm around you.

 

“Funny enough.  Now I think I need another bath.” said Sam with a half laugh.

“I would be happy to oblige you, sir.”  you said giving him a kiss. 

  
  
  
  
  


**Author's Note:**

> Alludes to Sam's messed up shoulder/Jared Padalecki's real life injury which resulted from a wrestling match with Osric during JIBCON 2014.


End file.
